The Light in the Dark
by hypn0disk
Summary: Nothing is ever as it seems at Briarcliff.


_**A/N:**__ In celebration of Halloween, I decided to branch out and write a new story based on American Horror Story: Asylum. I do not own any of the character's mentioned throughout my story. They belong to Ryan Murphy._

Chapter 1 -

Lana stirred and rolled over, stretching out her arm; her delicate fingers reaching out and searching for the soft curves that she craved to touch. She'd had a terrible nightmare, which had left her feeling tense and unsettled. She had dreamt that she had visited Briarcliff, the local lunatic asylum, under false pretences. Foolishly, she had gone there pretending that she wanted to write an article about the Briarcliff bakery. What she had really wanted was an inside scoop about the infamous serial killer, "Bloody Face", who was being transferred to the asylum that very day. Instead, all that she got was trouble. Lana seriously pissed off the head of the asylum, who then later kidnapped and tortured her.

Her eyes drifted open as her fingertips grazed against cold bed sheets rather than the warm skin of her lesbian lover.

Last night hadn't been a dream at all.

Lana's ears popped, causing an extremely high-pitched ringing to vibrate deep inside her ear canal, and then a tremendous pressure clasped hold of her head, squeezing tightly - her brain threatening to pour out of her little, button nose. The sensation was similar, but more intense, to the feeling that takes over your senses when you are on a plane that is descending, preparing to land. She was falling - plummeting back down to earth, back to reality.

She swallowed the dry lump that had formed in the back of her throat and stared straight ahead, her dark brown eyes burning imaginary holes in the dark bricks that made up her cell. A single tear rolled down her pale cheek and soaked into her pillow.

Lana wiped the back of her hand over her eye, forcing the tears to stop. She winced as she caught the tender skin that was lying over her temporal bones. Tiny, scabbed blisters had formed at the two points where electricity penetrated and flowed through her skull. Even the slightest touch made her flesh feel as like it was being pierced over and over again by thousands of boiling hot needles. However, she completely forgot all about the pain when a vivid image popped into her head - the face of the woman who had inflicted this torment upon her.

Sister Jude.

Anger and hatred sizzled away in the bottom of her stomach, much like molten lava bubbles angrily in the pit of a volcano. Never in her life had Lana despised somebody with such a burning intensity. Leaning over the side of the bed, she began to wretch violently - each heave making her abdominal muscles ache - saliva dribbling from her mouth and puddling onto the cold, concrete floor. Once again, tears pricked at the reporter's eyes, but this time she let them flow freely as she huddled herself back onto the bed, wrapping her arms around her knees, trying to protect herself from all the evil she could feel swimming in the air around her.

"I have to get out." She whispered to herself. "I just have to."

The common room was the heart of Briarcliff. It was the place where the patients - or were they prisoners? - were lumbered together and left, often unsupervised. Keeping all the crazies in one place made things much easier for the 'hard-working' orderlies, who you would usually find snoozing in a corner or maybe in the kitchen, screwing one of the inmates.

Lana pushed her way through the double doors leading into Crazy Central. At least a dozen heads turned to look at her - hazy, shadowed eyes burrowing deep into her broken, damaged soul. Mindlessly, she pulled her red cardigan securely around herself, hiding her slender body away from the malevolent spectators who were regarding her with a sense of bewilderment and disdain.

Walking down the centre of the chamber, Ms Winters allowed her eyes to wonder over the poor, lost creatures that were aimlessly milling around. Pepper, the one who drowned her sister's baby, was in the far corner, spinning around and around in a circle, clapping her hands excitedly and grinning from ear-to-ear. A Latina-looking lady was dancing to the most annoying, repetitive song Lana had ever heard, which was playing on a loop, on the record-player. For a moment, Lana was hypnotised by the fluid and graceful movements that the Mexican was creating - she looked so serene and care-free, despite the fact she was in a living hell.

"Well, helloooooo cutie!"

A pinch to her derriere made Lana instantly snap out of her stupor. She span around on the ball of her foot, to face the offending culprit. Shelley stood before her, smirking devilishly.

"Get away from me!" The corners of the newest inmate's lips quivered threateningly.

"What's up, girly?" Shelley taunted. "Not afraid of a little girl-on-girl loving, are you?" She gripped Lana by her tiny wrist, pulling her closer into herself, before stroking the backs of her fingers gently across Lana's cheek.

Their eyes locked in a silent battle; brown against blue, sexual frustration versus pure hatred.

The skin under Shelley's vice-like hold burned and prickled, the pain gradually becoming close to unbearable. Spontaneously, the young reporter spat at Shelley - globules of saliva clung greedily to the nymphomaniac's blonde eyelashes, before trickling heavily down her face.

"You bitch!"

Lana stumbled backwards before gravity conquered and pulled her down. Her feet flew out from under her body and the soft part of the skull connected with the floor, causing multi-coloured illuminations to jitter behind her sealed eyelids. A weight suddenly straddled her waist, making her panic and flail wildly in order to block the violent assault she was expecting, but yet, never came.

Through the smog and through the chaos, a stern, authoritative voice bellowed over the cacophony.

"Get off of her! Frank! Take Shelley to the isolation room. She needs to spend some time on her own."

And then, the weight was gone.

"Nooooo! No! Please! Frank! C'mon, it doesn't have to be like this! Please! Don't do this to me! I haven't done anything wrong. I was trying to make friends! You know how friendly I can be, Frank, don't you? You know! No, Frank! Nooooo!"

The racket disappeared out of the doorway and down the hall, but still, Lana stay where she was - plastered to the floor, waiting for the fuzzy dancing stars to dissolve from behind her eyelids.

"I see you're making friends already, Ms Banana." Sister Jude drawled, standing over the young, injured woman who lay paralyzed on the ripped linoleum.

The dominating nun quickly let her gaze to brush up and down the girl's body. An unexpected fiery blitz raged deep inside her gut. Surprised by her own body's unpredictable reaction, Jude looked away and towards her aide, "Sister Mary Eunice, please help Ms Winter to her feet."

And with that, the nun exited the room.

_I hope you all enjoyed this pilot chapter! Reviews and feedback are more than welcome! Should I continue?_


End file.
